Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 5)

The genie opened a portal, taking one last look at Adam and Rich in their new lives, Adam’s face and beard covered in food, caught in rapturous delight as Rich encouraged him on, one hand working his way under Adam’s massive gut to find his cockhole to play with, and then he was gone, back into the hallway of the dorm where he had first materialized. Time had shifted back as well–it was the night before again, and the genie made quick work of erasing Adam from this old reality, all of his things disappearing from the room, leaving it as a single with just Eli living there for the moment.

The jock arrived back not too long after that and made himself at home, and while the genie was tempted to do introduce himself to the handsome jock…something else caught his attention instead. 

“Look, he’s driving me insane! He won’t keep his side of the room clean, and he tells me I’m being crazy, just expecting him to clean up after himself.”

“I get it, I really do, but I can’t do anything about this, you understand? He’s not violating any rules, and you’re going to have to learn to get along with him somehow.”

“You’re the RA! You’re supposed to manage this shit!”

The genie slipped out into the hall, and saw two students, one a bit younger than the other, arguing. The young one was apparently complaining about his roommate situation to the older one, who just looked exhausted. 

“My main interest is keeping the fucking peace, and the university doesn’t fucking care, unless he’s smoking pot or something like that. You’re gonna have to figure it out. Maybe after Winter break, we can see about getting you a different roommate, but until then, you gotta stop complaining to me every fucking day about every little thing he does.”

“Well my parents–”

“I know, you’re legacy or whatever, but they aren’t that fucking rich or you wouldn’t be living in this fucking dorm, I know that for sure.”

The freshman’s face got even redder, and he stormed off towards his room. The genie thought about following along, but instead, he floated along behind the RA, as he breathed a heavy sigh and slumped off towards his own room at the end of the hall–but before he got there, the genie materialized inside his bottle, and left himself sitting on the desk in the RA’s room.

It only took the RA, whose name was Timothy, a couple of minutes to find the bottle out of place, and decide to open it–allowing the genie to make his usual grand entrance, and introduce himself to his new “Master”. Timothy just stared at him, and the genie enjoyed the reaction. Most people reacted with a sense of wonder and excitement at meeting someone who could make their dreams come true. Timothy, on the other hand, just looked at the mystical genie floating in his room like he was yet another problem on a long list of problems he didn’t particularly want to deal with right now. Then, Timothy started to laugh.

He was laughing because all of it was absurd. This whole semester so far had been nightmarish–classes were hard, and that sucked up so much of his time, and then there was all of the shit he had to deal with as an RA too, on top of that. This floor had so much drama going on, that even his room couldn’t be a safe place for him. He was exhausted, and all he’d wanted to do for weeks was cry, but he hadn’t.

“Alright, here’s something simple for you, Mr. Genie,” Timothy said, wiping a tear from his eye as he finished laughing at the joke in front of him, “Right now, all I wish for is some time to relax. Think you can handle that?”

The genie chuckled, as he froze time, and rewound Timothy’s words, altering them slowly. He’d give Timothy so much more than a little relaxation–but what was it that the genie had Timothy wish for instead?


Here’s your poll for this chunk! Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 1)

“So like I said, we had a nice family living here for a while, but…well, I don’t really have the details,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a look that implied he did, in fact, have them, “but let’s just say that they ended up getting divorced, and neither of them could afford the rent on their own, so they found new places for themselves. It’s been vacant for a while, but I took the time to fix it up a bit, add some more furnishings, you know…”

Taylor was still so agog at the place that he was only half listening, as the landlord kept going on and on about the house during the tour. It was beautiful–big kitchen, spacious living areas, five bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, a little exercise room in the basement–it was unbelievable really, especially at the price Mr. Woodrow was offering–enough that Taylor and his four friends could actually afford it while they were going to school next year.

“Now, I do need a year lease. You said you wanted to rent it with your friends? That doesn’t bother me really, as long as all of your names are on it. Do you think you’d all be interested?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Taylor said, “I mean, I’ll check with them about it, but this…I mean, it’s a great place man, it really is.”

Mr. Woodrow beamed, “I put a lot of work into it, but I know around here, you students just need places to live. I like to know that I’m helping out some young men when I can.”

Taylor sent the listing to his friends, and all of them agreed that it looked like an amazing find. Taylor was the only one who was going to live there the whole summer, while he was doing a research project on campus. His other friends would join him closer to the school year starting in August and September–though Aaron said that for a place this nice, he might show up early. The lease could be signed electronically, and with a deposit–helpfully supplied by Taylor’s father, they were all set to go–they had the perfect fucking place, at a great bargain, and it didn’t look like there was a single catch anywhere.

At least, until Taylor was leaving the house, whistling in excitement and ready to start moving in, when someone came out from behind some bushes and hustled towards him. He was an older man, and he looked like he meant some sort of business. “Hey, kid! What were you doing in there?” he shouted at him.

Taylor just looked at him, confused, but assumed it was a neighbor. “Oh, uh, me and my friends are going to be renting it for the next year. You live around here?”

The guy’s face went a bit pale, and he came closer to him. “Don’t. Rip it up–don’t sign a lease with him. That place…it’s fucked man, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

“What? Why?”

The man hesitated, and then blurted out, “I lived there, and it made me gay.”

Taylor just stared at him, and then started laughing.

“I’m fucking serious! I was married, I had a kid. We started living there a year ago, and…and fuck, I don’t know how that fucker did it, some spell, or a curse, or who the fuck knows, but now…now I fucking love cock kid. I love cock more than fucking anything, and it’s fucking destroyed me. Killed my marriage, I lost my fucking job! Don’t…don’t do it, don’t move in there, you’ll fucking regret it.”

The guy moved closer to him, but Taylor swatted his hand away. “Whatever pervert–fuck off! It’s just a fucking house man, get a grip on yourself. If you wanna suck dicks, whatever, I don’t care, but I’m straight.”

He pushed past the stranger and got in his car, and the man just stared after him as he drove off, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be straight for long–not in that place.


It was a couple weeks later now, and TayLor finally felt like he had all of his stuff in the house, at least. Most of it was still in boxes, that that was a small problem now, after moving his stuff out of the dorm and across town in his small car. His friends had all seen the place by now and were thrilled with his luck–and a bit jealous that he was going to enjoy it by himself all summer long, since his rich father was willing to pay for the three months himself, before the rest of them moved in.

So, here he was–it was his, finally. So Taylor decided to take a break from unpacking, and decided to poke around a little. The pool in particular was enticing, especially since the weather was finally starting to heat up, but Mr. Woodrow told him it hadn’t been turned on yet, so he had to wait. Instead, he poked around the house itself, checking out the other rooms, peeking in the closets, up in the attic, and down in the basement–but something in particular caught his undivided attention for a while, but what was it?


My plan for this one is a bit more of a slow burn. We might have a few parts with just Taylor, and then add in the rest of his housemates to be corrupted as well, in turn. We’ll see how it goes! The first poll is below, and the bonus Patreon poll is over here too. You can make two selections each in the polls!


New You Resolutions (Part 5) [Interactive]

“Look, I’d just like the week to go visit my family is all, some of the other students can keep an eye on the research while–”

“It’s simply out of the question,” Professor Leroy Herron said, looking over the top of his glasses at the grad student in his office, asking him for a winter vacation. “And frankly, the fact that you would even think of broaching this with me, makes me wonder if this sort of…career is a good match for you at all.”

The student stammered a moment, and then ducked back out of the office, realizing that he might have just put his entire PhD at risk. Professor Herron was not someone, after all, who was known for kindness and mercy. He was the preeminent scholar in his field, of course (though in reality almost all of his research had been done by overworked and burnt out grad students, which Herron could slap his name on, jetting to conferences all over the world while his grad students and post docs took care of his classes. Everyone knew it was unfair, and yet, a recommendation from him, or better yet, a phone call, was one of the only ways to get a tenure track position anymore, assuming one even opened up. Still, Leroy couldn’t care less. He had to do the same work when he was a grad student–this was just how the system worked. For him, it was working well, so why would he want to change it?

It any case, it was time for him to head home for the day. He was stuck dealing with some administrative busy work through the winter holiday, but after a couple more days, he’d be finished, and he could just relax at home with his wife and kids, while his students kept an eye on the projects in the lab. He stood up and stretched, scratched his beard and small gut he’d picked up from his mostly sedentary lifestyle these days, grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, and noticed something by the door to his office that he was certain hadn’t been there moments before. A small envelope, golden in color, just lying there on the ground. Wondering if, perhaps, his student had dropped it while he was leaving, he went over, picked it up, and say that it was actually addressed to him:

Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.

Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!

Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!

Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!

New You Enterprises

Leroy had no idea what to make of this letter–it sounded ridiculous. Most likely it was some stupid ploy by his grad students, something to make him ease up on them, or what have you. He’d even heard talk of a possible graduate student union being formed on campus, but as soon as he found the instigators of that, he’d have them thrown out of their programs in days. Expecting to just have a laugh, he looked at the included list, but his expression first went to confusion, and then to horror, at the various tasks put to him by the industry for the next year.


As before, you can vote for up to four resolutions below. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well. I will usually use three to five of the most popular selections in the next chunk of the story.


Daryl had always harboured a suspicion that video games were bad for you–it always seemed like such a waste of time, when you could be doing something productive with your time: studying, working out, taking a walk, or anything else for that matter! And so, you can imagine his frustration when he arrived at his campus house for the start of the semester, and discovered he was living with a bunch of gamers–though one of them was by far the worst of the lot. Sammy was every worst imagined flaw of a gamer that Daryl could imagine, brought to life. He was obese, he was a slob who never picked up after himself, he drank and ate all the time wherever he was, and he was always playing those stupid games of him. His two housemates got sucked in with him, wasting their time, but he just ignored them…until he started to notice something strange.

The other two guys had been fairly normal, but within a month of hanging out with Sammy, they were starting to pick up his habits. They stopped shaving and showering, they were all drinking beer and eating pizza every night, and none of them seemed to find that the least bit strange or disturbing, even when he tried to point out what was happening to them. They were oblivious. By midterms, the two of them were almost unrecognizable, and if he hadn’t seen it happen, he would have never believed that the two of them had been slim, clean cut guys just a month and a half before–it wasn’t possible. How in the hell could someone even gain 200 pounds that quickly?

The tension in the house was rough–Daryl would get into screaming fights with any of them, telling them to pick up their crap, or do anything besides sit there, drink, and play video games all day long. Then, one night, he came home late from the library, only to discover the living room was empty of the three of them, but the gaming system was still on the TV. He walked over to turn it off, but the screen…caught his interest somehow, and he stared at it for a few minutes, unblinking, before throwing caution to the wind, picking up the controller, and giving it a shot.

When he finally emerged from the stupor he’d sunk into, he realized it was morning–no, it was afternoon. Snacks were litered around him, along with a bunch of empty beer bottles, and his gut was distended. He threw down the controller and stood up as Sammy walked into the room, completely naked, bearing another tray of junk food. “Oh player four, sit back down on that couch–you aren’t nearly ready for a break yet.”

Daryl tried to resist, but he found himself compelled to obey, Sammy waddling over and picking up the controller, putting it back in his hands. “Players two and three are having plenty of fun upstairs together, so that gives us plenty of time to get you caught up, right big boy?”

But Daryl wasn’t listening anymore–he was playing his game. By the end of the week, he was as massive, hairy and slobby as the rest, begging for player one’s cock all day long, and he couldn’t even remember being any other way.

“Please, I’m sorry…just–fuck!–please, just let me stop!”

Mr. Goldman had been pounding on his nuts with his metal ruler for about twenty minutes now. I was just watching, enjoying myself. I’d tried to warn him about flunking me in his class, but some people just think they’re beyond the reach of punishment. I mean, I could have always just *made* him give me an A in the class–but then how would he have learned anything at all? The only way we can improve is by making mistakes, after all.

Still, I suppose he’s had enough pain for the moment. The next time he smacks his sack with the ruler, I see the pleasure light up his eyes, and he moans, with a tinge of confusion, before smacking himself again. They’d swelled slightly, in the course of regular punishment, but now they were expanding much faster, his sack bulging until it was the size of a softball, and then larger–large enough that it would be obvious in the front of any pants he wore, even as his cock shrank in size to little more than a nub. 

“Oh fuck, how…how are you doing any of this?”

“Heh, if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I said, “Or figure out something worse than death, perhaps. Are you sure you want to know?”

His academic curiosity was sated, but I still had plenty of plans for my least favorite professor, and he had all summer to discover a brand new side of himself, with my help.

Trust me, none of these fuckers are going to make it to the end of pledge week, I can assure you that. Oh sure, we like to lead them on for a few days, but you can always tell the losers from the pack right at the beginning, they sure as hell aren’t cut out for this frat–we’re the fucking elite on campus, and we can’t have losers like them dragging us down. We’ll have them beaten to a pulp and they’ll run away with their tails between their legs–we don’t haze lightly around here. Still, I don’t know what’s up with that drink of theirs–one of them told me some upperclassman on campus gave them the brew as a good luck charm, telling them they’d get in for sure if they had some. Whatever, if someone else wants to use our reputation to make a few bucks what do I really care? But no silly drink is going to save their skins.

For pledge week, all of the new meat has to live out behind the house in a small shed we reserve specifically for the week. There’s no privacy, it’s cramped, but the real goal is to start weeding out the runts like these ones. We make sure the real pledges know who has a target on their back, and after a couple of days they’ve been hazed, beaten and ridiculed so hard by their fellow pledges they all drop out before too long. Trust me, none of these three can take that, not to mention everything else we’ll be throwing their way soon enough–they’ll be gone for sure.

***

Alright, so maybe things haven’t gone quite according to plan. It’s weird–we told all the freshman football jocks to break these three fuckers…but it almost seems like it happened the other way around. All of the jocks are suddenly these meek little bitches, doing whatever those three demand. There’s been some other strange things happening too–the three guys weren’t much to look at before, but all of them have packed on quite a bit of muscle…even as the freshman jocks have all lost a bit of size. Hell, I saw one guy, Kyle, in the shower–I swear he had a eight inch cock, but it’s less than an inch now. He’s packed on weight, and his uniform doesn’t fit right, like he’s a bit too short for it now. Whatever–I had a talk with the three of them, and all of them suggested they go ahead and move into the house with us. Doesn’t bother me any, we’ll beat some sense into them, and show them who’s boss soon enough.

***

No, this shit’s too fucked up. I have…some of the other guys have lost it, fuck, they’re just they’re fucking slaves now! And the Masters–fuck, they’re so…so fucking big now. I mean, of course they should get the house to themselves, of course us slaves should all live in the shed but…I swear things should have been different. I can remember them being different. I…I was in charge, and I can be still, if I can just keep my wits about me. Figure out what the fuck was in that drink, what’s letting them…suck the fucking life out of us, literally! Oh shit, here they come, to decide who gets to stay with them in the house tonight. God…I don’t want them to, but I can see them looking at me. If I have to spend another night between them, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.

Photo and Idea submitted by Bryan


These two college fucks–I know it was their frat bros or whatever who put them up to the prank to begin with. Cow tipping–who even tips fuckin’ cows anymore? Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy when I heard the commotion outside and went out with my shotgun, scared the two pansy ass kids half to death without even shooting anything. So I called the cops, and as soon as they figured out they might actually end up going to jail, well, let’s just say there were some tears involved, and so I offered them both a choice. Either they could go with the authorities and take their punishment that way, or they could work on my ranch on the weekends, and pay off their debt that way instead. I told them that they’d be mine from Friday night until Sunday evening, no exceptions, and if they missed even one weekend, then I’d be pressing charges on them both. They were desperate, and they knew I knew they were desperate, and so they agreed, figuring it was still better than jail.

Course, I couldn’t just let something like this go unpunished, you know? Now I might look like a simple redneck to you, but even this simple redneck has some tricks up his sleeves. My grandpa was a magician, years ago, and he gave me his hypnotist’s watch–and trust me, the thing’s damn effective if you know what you’re doing. Pretty soon, the two of them were loving their work on the farm, even though neither of them could quite remember what kind of work they were doing in particular, because if either of them could remember…well, I doubt they’d be happy about it.

Still, I’m pretty happy with my new pup and pig. Aren’t they adorable? Of course, I can’t change them too much right now, I have to make sure they’re still presentable when they head back to class during the week, but I think both of them are realizing they suddenly don’t quite have the minds for college. Nope, pig here spends all week stuffing himself silly, and pup here is too busy humping anything he can find, preferably pig’s leg or rump, to focus on class work. Both of them have already agreed to keep working for me all summer long, and I have no doubt that neither of them will be returning to classes in the fall. I hadn’t really planned on keeping them, but let’s just say I’ve grown pretty attached to both of their holes, and I don’t think they’ll be leaving my ranch for quite a long time, not that they’ll care soon enough.